


One In The Same

by MsTerror



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, F/M, Kinktober 2020, Masochism, Porn, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTerror/pseuds/MsTerror
Summary: You've been fooling around with the legion -- Frank Morrison, the leader to be more exact. He's had you in his sights ever sense that one time you managed to get ahold of his knife and stab him with it. First it was pure anger and hatred -- then it turned into curiosity.He wonder what you taste like._____Prompt 2: eating out.
Relationships: Frank Morrison/Reader, Frank Morrison/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	One In The Same

**Author's Note:**

> Second go at writing smut here we gooo. Ps I don't edit my work so I probably seem like an idiot lmao.

(Eating out)  
Frank Morrison x reader  
_______  
  


The young woman wiped collected sweat from her forehead, which lead to stale oil being smeared across her temple, along with a few new splotches on her forehead. She only had one more wire to go, then the third gen would be finished. Fully focused, and nothing but pure consentration. One wrong move, an accidental tap, could make the generator exploded and set her back. Not to mention it'd alert the killer -- the Legion. Frank Morrison to be more exact, the profound leader of a merry band of murderous misfits. The suspense of seeing him again made her excited -- a mischievous smile made its way on her face.

The generator popped to life not too soon after. She hopped up and hurriedly dusted her bruised knees off. Generator fixed -- check. See if the killer is near by -- she pops her head out the window beside her and sees a familiar masked figure making his way over -- check.

She couldn't help but pull the wolf's tail."Oi cunt!" The woman waved her hands around. "Up here, legion retard!"

The man down below shot his firey gaze up at the blistering annoyance of a survivor. He knew who it was by the voice immediately, and he wasn't surprised by her stupidity.

Frank wasn't known for keeping his cool, in fact, he was a violent spit storm when angered. So (Y/n) wasn't surprised when he stormed up to the second floor of one of Haddonfield's many houses with a little more zest to his step. It didn't take him much time to sprint up the steps and corner her. The only way of excape was the window, or hopping over the stair railing.

She felt more daring today, and opted for the more dangerous option. Of course falling from a two story house is dangerous -- but parkouring over the railing and having a killer on your tail is more exciting.

"Come on, big guy. Let's see watcha got for me today," she teased further before dashing off and hopping over the stair railing. She knew it was a bad idea, but lately she's been full to the brim with those kind of nutty solutions of hers.

She dashed out the front door and leaped down the porch stairs, not bothering to look back to check if he was following.

Because of course he was. Frank Morrison didn't back down. Neither did any of the other killers, but she preferred him just a tad bit too much.

Maybe because she's a little twisted inside too, drawn to the darkness that resided in him -- like a moth to a flame.

She had stabbed him before, but it didn't kill him. It was in the third trail with the Legion, when she had managed to tackle the killer from above by getting up top one of the ruins, causing him to drop his knife and for her to have the perfect opportunity for doing as such -- stabbing him in the gut, right into the left lung. She knew she had punctured a lung just by the immediate gasping for air that would never reach that lung, and gurgling of blood like it was flooding inside. Despite all that however, he managed to survive the entire trail. He didn't win.

Ever since then he's always had an obsession with her. He wanted nothing but to kill her in the most gruesome ways. And he had killed her a few times. Slicing her up, mangling her body as soon as he got the chance. He'd look into her dimming eyes, watching her life fade away. There was something in her that reflected himself. A manifestation that he rather liked. Craved. Even in her last dieing breath she fought til the end.

Except it was clear to Frank that she had became more flashy, always getting his attention at the beginning of the trail. She did it on purpose, volunteerly the distraction of the group when time arises. And that was exactly the current predicament they both were in at the moment.

She ran between the trees and small park area. He was gaining up on her fast, only a lick of hair away. Fingers brushed over cotton, nearly snagged her going over a fence. He hopped over it in pursuit. She was not getting away from him. Not this time.

(Y/n) snickered. There was a delicious thrill of the chase. Of being the prey. She chalked it up to her being an adrenaline junkie, most certainly.

A generator being fixed overhead caused the young woman to stutter in her tracks. She was in the backyard of one of the houses, near the basement, and the generator must be on the second story. She had memorized this map, much like the others. However, the generators were always in a different location.

That little hiccup in her step caused the Legion to gain up on her immediately.

He tackled her, slamming her body to the ground. Her torso hit the ground first and knocked the wind right out of her lungs. It didn't help that the Legion bastard was on top of her, and pressed against her back. But the close proximity decreased, and he was suddenly back on his feet, a muddy boot pinned her to the ground.

She laughed bitterly. "Ugh, you got me."

"You really thought you were going to get away?" He scoffed. He grabbed her by the waist and swung her over his shoulder. "You never know when to quit, do you?"

She didn't waste any time in struggling. Frank couldn't hold out forever. "That's my best quality--" she grunted, kicked her feet against his torso and clawed at the fabric of his jacket in hopes of puncturing the thick material, "--ambition."

"Yeah I don't give a shit," he spat. "I prefer you hung up on a hook, and that's exactly where you're going."

The young woman awed -- like she just saw a cute cuddly puppy -- but in a more mocking manner. A tone that struck a cord in Frank. "Look at Franky Wanky, being the Entity's little bitch."

Frank was quick to loose his cool. He purposefully dropped the girl to the ground. His firm hand was quick to grab a handful of her tussled hair, and dragged her along the ground as such.

The woman howled in pain, clawing at the hand pulling her along. Her heels dug into soil, but she couldn't get a decent grip in the slippery dirt.

He managed to drag her to the basement, and dragged he did. Down the splintered stairs and across broken floorboards, all the while still having a harsh hold on her hair, painfully pulling her skin taint.

He brought her over to a stack of crates before yanking her off the ground and shoving her onto them.

Her head hit first on to the stone wall behind -- pain shot through her cranium. She couldn't move her head for a bit, neck stiff, paralyzed for a split second.

Sharp steel cut through tender flesh and muscles -- a knife now bedded in her thigh. The pain was hot and pulsing, liquid fire melting through her veins, setting her nerves into a frenzy of agony.

She screamed.

Her hands automatically clutched her injured thigh. Tears stung her vision. She peered up at the killer behind wet eyelashes and red vision. She was going to pull this blade out and--

Frank carelessly yanked the knife out of her thigh. She screamed again, her head bashing down against the crates once more. She would have a concussion in the real world, if she wasn't trapped here in the Entity's realm.

Blood spurted out of the open wound, leaking down her thigh, and soaking the wood red. She didn't even care that her skirt was bunched up where her legs and hip meet -- a common show of decency now gone. She couldn't tell if Frank was staring at her exposed undergarments, or if he was transfixed on the wound he inflicted. Perhaps both.

When she went to fix her skirt -- not wanting to give Frank a show -- he grabbed her injured thigh roughly.

"Get your hands off me!" She clawed at the hand assaulting her, trying to kick with her uninjured foot, but failed to meet the target. He grabbed ahold of her other leg, hand placed against the inside of her thigh. The contact made jolts spring to her core, heat flaring; a ruby blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. She took in a sharp intake of oxygen.

Frank cocked his head to the side, then hummed in thought.

Calloused fingers ghosted over her bloody wound, before pressing firmly into the cut.

(Y/n) hissed and gritted her teeth. This wasn't the first time she's been stabbed. After all, she's been through worse. Worse as in being torn to shreds by the hillbilly's chainsaw, or having your brain be turned to goop when you're still conscious. But this wasn't the first time Frank and her was in this position. He's inflicted greater wounds before, and he had his fun with the blood and gore of it all. He was more gentle at the moment, just stroking the bloody wound instead of jamming his fingers in.

She didn't feel like going through this twisted game of his. "Get on with it then. Just toss me on the hook."

Frank stayed silent, still transfixed on her thigh. His other hand started to grip harshly into her soft skin, no doubt that there would be bruises in the shape of finger prints if she manages to excape. A slim chance considering the circumstances.

"What are you-"

"Shut up," he snapped.

Dark eyes behind the mask promised a gruesome punishment if she didn't obey. Instinctively, her jaws clamped shut tightly.

She's seen his face once. She had managed to knock it off when she managed to whack him upside the head with a stick once. In her opinion, he was attractive. His eyes were the deepest shade of blue, a menacing glint. Dark brown buzzed hair hidden underneath the hood. She couldn't help but let her eyes train on the way his pants pulled around his crotch and ass, toned legs and arms flexing against the fabric.

There was a sick and twisted side to her everytime she sees him use that knife. The power of which he strikes down other survivors. The absolute power and controll he had. She couldn't help but be attracted to the young man.

But that didn't mean she wanted him touching her -- not right now.

She was starting to crack underneath. "Whatcha gonna do, Franky? Kill me again the old fashion way? Slice my throat -- gut me like a fish?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Obviously not. I wanna come out of this a lil less sliced up if you catch my drift. And perhaps not be dissected by the monster crab in the sky."

"You and me both know that isn't gonna happen." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Besides, our time together is always a blast."

"Dice a girl up and call it a doozy hell of a time -- you're fucked up, Franky."

"Quit calling me that. It's the legion to you."

"But I rather like the name frank, Franky. Why hide behind a mask?"

"Legion!" he yelled. He slammed his fist into the crates. "It is the Legion!"

"Hmm. Whatever you say... Franky."

"That's it." He stuffed two fingers into the wound. She hissed in pain. "At this point, I'm starting to think you're into this."

"Maybe I am," she boldly stated, her voiced quivered from the agonizing pain. "Perhaps you're fueling my kink."

"Is that so?"

"Who knows..."

"Well I say you're bat shit crazy."

She laughed humorlessly. "Says the one who's fingers deep in me."

"That's not the only way I can go deep in you."

"Is this a knife joke, or are you really hitting on me."

"Who knows," he mocked. "Perhaps incorporate both."

The hand holding her uninjured thigh crept up, rough hands smoothing over soft skin, traveling to her heated core. Fingers brushed over her covered folds, teasingly and slow. She gasped.

"What do you think you're doing!" But she was quickly hushed as he moved her panties to the side and pressed his thumb against her clit. Her breathing hitched, heat building in her center with every slow circular motion. She tried to protest, but this feeling -- it's been too long. Her mind was quickly swept away into the blissful sensation of what his finger was doing to her clit.

Wetness leaked from her cunt, leaking down her ass and into her panties. Frank inserted a finger, his thumb still working at her clit. She moaned in response -- she couldn't help herself. The pain in her leg was drowned out by the pleasure as he started to pump his index finger in and out of her wet cunt. It didn't take long before he added his middle finger in, stretching her walls even more.

Her hips started to rock against his hand. However, as soon as she started to get into the feeling -- everything stopped.

Frank pulled away, his fingers leaving her cunt in a wet pop. The needy woman whined, feeling overbearingly empty and shattering cold.

He snickered at her predicament. "Now you want me?"

Her cheeks were blistering red. "Fuck you, Franky." He didn't get onto her about his name. Instead, he lifted wet sobbing fingers up in front of him.

Frank raised the mask up -- only to expose his lower face -- and slowly licked the wetness off his finger. He gave a satisfied hum. He knew what he wanted next.

Frank Morrison was a man on a mission, and when he sets his mind on something, nothing can stray him from his desired goal. So when he grasped the bloody knife, yanked her skirt up above her stomach, he worked quick at cutting.

A scream froze in her throat.

At first, she suspected he was going to jam the knife in her, but he only cut off her underwear; bloody cold steel brushed against her warm skin on both side of her hips. He tore the ruined, wet undergarment from her body and unceremoniously tossed the fabric across the basement.

Frank didn't waste time and yielded before her exposed core. He pushed her legs apart. She squeaked, feeling his nose press again her folds, a warm tongue lapping between. His hot tongue trailed up to the swollen bundle of nerves, swirling and teasing. His mouth then closed around her clit, sucking. She couldn't hold in her needy moans. She was beginning to come undone, her arousal in full force.

With his tongue still on her clit, three digits was inserted into her cunt once again. He didn't give her time to adjust and started to pump in and out at a moderate speed that matched his tongue.

Movement flashed above the stairs, and two eyes the size of saucers stared down in shock at the taboo display. It was Meg. Meg heard the scream and had followed the sound there, where she had originally thought someone needed saving.

Frank heard the foot steps, but he didn't care. He sped up his tongue, smoothing over her clit with high velocity. His three fingers curled inside, pumping faster with each stroke of his tongue. Suddenly, he hit that bundle of nerves inside, and her cunt slightly constricted around his digits. Lewd noises filled the basement, bouncing off the walls, no doubt reaching outside the house. The sound of his fingers going in and out of her wet hole was loud, _very_ loud. And the moans and whines that left her swollen lips didn't go unnoticed by the visitor on the stairs. In fact, Meg stared in shock because never before has this ever happened. A killer and survivor being like... _This_. It went against the rules, didn't it?

It was when Frank's mask fell off the top of his head and clattered to the ground, was when Meg dashed up the stairs and out of the house.

Frank should have cared that his mask fell off, but he didn't. He didn't care about the sound of a fixed generator in the distance. He wanted to taste more of her. To make her cum on his tongue. There was nothing else on his mind at the moment besides the warm flesh on his tongue and how deep his fingers can go.

She didn't know how the other survivors would react if Meg snitched. Probably not too happy. A traitor, she would be branded as. _She's with the killers._ However, she didn't care. Not at the moment. All she could deal with was the here and now, and right now she was drawing close.

A few more quick licks of his tongue -- fingers pistoning without a sign of slowing down -- her lower abdomen tightened. That pent up feeling suddenly bursted, a blissful feeling flooded her veins. Her cunt violently fluttered around his fingers.

She cried out, Frank still gruesomely lapped at her clit. Her orgasm was violent. Sweat rolled down her neck as her thighs clamped Frank against her. He stayed like that, detaching his tongue from her clit, licking down, his fingers now gone. She felt suddenly empty until he shoved his tongue in, tasting her juices. Hot muscle licked up the rest of her arousal. He didn't pull away into her legs fell limp.

Since his mask was gone she got to see his face once more. His nose, mouth, and chin glistened; he wiped it off with his sleeve. She was about to say something when he beat her to it.

"You know what happens now." He took out his knife again.

She braced herself. She knew exactly was coming.

The blade entered her chest, a visouis slice between the ribs and near her heart. Frank still didn't have his mask on, and she could finally see his face as he took her life once more.

He wore a hard look -- a smirk on his lips in response to his winning point. And that's the last thing she saw before her eyesight vanished, and with that the entity came.

The fun was only just beginning too.


End file.
